


the storm can be so frightening (but that same wind is gonna blow that storm away)

by keijisosamu (combustible)



Series: i know what you're feeling ('cause i feel it as well) - osaaka week 2020 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort Sex, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Osamu needs a hug, Post-Canon, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/keijisosamu
Summary: The sound of the last ball dropping on the floor is a sound every volleyball player knows all too well, even after years without playing. It's the last point Atsumu will ever be a part of, the last time his sets will decide if the Jackals win or lose.osamu breaks down under the weight of his own guilt, and akaashi holds him through the storm.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: i know what you're feeling ('cause i feel it as well) - osaaka week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921114
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90
Collections: Osaaka Week 2020





	the storm can be so frightening (but that same wind is gonna blow that storm away)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE,  
> this is my submission for day two of osaaka week for the word 'comfort'.  
> im always insecure about e-rated stuff.  
> i feel like i've repeated myself a lot in this fic, but also, this is what anxiety feels for me, it's thick, and it never stops, even though the thoughts are always the same. so let's say its a stylistic effect, okay?
> 
> i hope you will like it nonetheless!!
> 
> tw: as you can see from the rating, it's smutty smutty, but also beware of osamu's anxiety.

_So tell me the story I still need to hear_

_Tell me we're gonna make it out alive again_

_I need to know there's nothing left to fear_

_There's nothing left to hide_

_So will you look me in the eye_

_And say we will survive_

  
  


.

  
Osamu doesn't have to look at him closely to see the look of distress on his face. He can feel it deep in his bones.

The sound of the last ball dropping on the floor is a sound every volleyball player knows all too well, even after years without playing. It's the last point Atsumu will ever be a part of, the last time his sets will decide if the Jackals win or lose.

But defeat doesn't come easy, it doesn't come softly. It hits with the _bang_ of a tree hitting the ground after being too greedy, too hungry for rays of unforgiving sunlight. They finally look at each other and Osamu's heart shatters.

He knows it's only temporary, that the guilt will not stay, there, piercing through all the walls he has ever built around those fatal _what ifs._ He knows he's made the right choice by not following Atsumu (he knows that following Atsumu is always a bad idea, he's been his twin for four decades, so he knows), but it still burns just the same. 

Fire is still fire, no matter how you encounter it. If you choose to stand in the middle of a bonfire, or if you try to escape a burning house, the flames still devour your skin just the same.

He still remembers their last match together. Having to bow down to thank Itachiyama for the game. If he noticed the look between Sakusa and his brother, something that means _I want to destroy you and eat you whole_ at the same time, Osamu didn't say anything. He was too busy realizing it was his last official match. The last time he'd walk on the court with Atsumu beside him.

He still remember his eyes meeting his reflection in the mirror. It was the only thing it took for him to start shaking. He did not cry right then, it didn't come, it would come later. But as he looked at his reflection, the only thing in his mind was frustration, anger, disappointment. He should have taken Atsumu and the rest of the team to the first place. 

Osamu is not usually a sore loser. He’s proud enough to hate the smell of defeat, but he also knows not to link his own worth to the result of a match that he has no total control over.

He doesn't regret ending his career in volleyball one second. They ended up playing in the finale after all. They surely have made Kita proud. 

Thinking about _that_ day still fills him with nostalgia, guilt, and sadness, though. Even twenty years later.

But seeing Atsumu go back to the changing rooms for one last time before he flies off to Hyogo to finally rest a bit after playing as a pro player for more than twenty years, it doesn't just make him sad. It fucking hurts.

When you’re a warrior, an athlete or a lawyer, you need to brace yourself for the inevitable loss. It may come early, or not, but it always comes, bitter and earth-shattering. Unexpected because you always end up _hoping_ , hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time, it’ll work, because you deserve just that, to win _one last time_. 

Atsumu doesn't cry when they meet up later at Onigiri Miya, but he's just a bit less obnoxious than usual and Osamu doesn't find the strength to tease him about it.

.

His bag drops with a _thump_ on the wooden floor of the flat he shares with Akaashi. Light doesn’t reach the living room where his boyfriend is sitting on the floor, watching a documentary about what Osamu assumes is the abyss. The moon is thin tonight, and the waters are too dark to illuminate the room correctly. Everything is bathed in shades of blacks and greys, only coloured by occasional flashes of blue coming from the television.

It’s quiet. 

Akaashi slowly turns his head towards him and smiles softly. It’s gentle, and careful, and the wrinkles around his eyes become just a bit more apparent. 

“You’re still awake,” Osamu whispers, as if not to disturb the serenity of their living room. 

“Yeah, I was thinking.” 

The winter coat he is wearing gets thrown on the couch and Osamu comes to sit next to his boyfriend. Everything is silent except for the male voice coming through the speakers to explain whatever thing the fish on the screen is currently doing. 

“How is Atsumu?”

Osamu sighs and lets his head fall slowly on Akaashi’s shoulder, his nose finding the tender skin of his neck as he breathes in, inhaling the familiar scent of their soap. He can’t even remember the time when he didn’t have a home to run to after an exhausting day, when he would only find an empty flat and an empty bed with no one to talk to. Akaashi’s been there for so long that imagining his life without him just doesn’t make sense anymore.

They’re not loud people. Akaashi has never been, Osamu isn't anymore. He used to scream and shout and yell at, or along with Atsumu, but he eventually became quieter, more solid, a sleeping volcano that might destroy everything in his reach, but who would rather pretend it's only a mountain. Most of the time, eruptions from his previous outbursts only lay new grounds bare for life to emerge from the ashes he left behind, and during these times, maybe, he's proud to be a volcano.

A soft warm kiss comes to lend on the top of his head after a few seconds, and he feels Akaashi's nose nuzzle against his hair. 

“I'm glad you're using my shampoo.”

“Mmmh, possessive,” Osamu chuckles, Akaashi warm against him.

They're not possessive people, just the right amount. They enjoy seeing each other wearing their pyjamas. They're only human after all. And scenting the light coconut scent of his own shampoo on Osamu still makes Akaashi's heart soar a little.

“They're softer now,” he mumbles as a justification, but they both know it's an excuse.

The former setter finally slides his arm around his boyfriend's waist and pulls him closer. He rests with his chin on the top of his head for a few seconds before jumping off the cliff they've been dancing around since Osamu came back from the game.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I'm not sure.”

They've been over it a few times over the last twenty years they've been together. Akaashi will hold him every single time though, he will take his hand and wrap his arms around him, and he will let him grieve again, and again, and again. For the man he could have been, for the man he _should_ have been, according to his own unforgiving thoughts.

“Do you want me to ask?”

Surprisingly enough for a Miya, Osamu is a creature of habit and he’ll never be thankful enough for the fact that Akaashi is the gentlest soul he has ever had the chance to meet. His skin is warm and delicate against his thicker epidermis. 

Akaashi eventually lifts his chin from the top of his head to put his lips there, where he kisses him gently. It’s like he wants his brain to feel some love too, piercing through his hair, his skin, his bones, until it finally, _finally_ reaches his mind.

He hums against his neck, and he lets himself feel, he lets himself fall for the first time since he came back from the game. It’s not something that can be seen, his shoulders are still stiff under Akaashi’s fingers, and his eyes are still dry against his beating heart. But Akaashi sees it nonetheless.

“How are you feeling?” Akaashi’s low voice finally rings in his ears, breaking the silence left after the television has been turned off. 

“Like shit.”

Fingers come to lightly scratch the nape of his neck, making Osamu shiver all over and he doesn’t hold back a quiet moan at the feeling. 

“Explain it to me,” Akaashi continues, never stopping the movement of his fingers, long nails massaging his scalp. “Are you feeling sad? Angry? Confused?”

It’s a ritual they’ve gone through every time it happens, soft words whispered in the quietness of their flat, with the moon for only witness. Sometimes, Akaashi will go home from work, or from the clinic he volunteers at, and he will simply break down, his entire body shaking under the weight of his own hopelessness. They’ve held each other through every night, every crisis, every breakdown. 

“I’m mostly angry, I think.”

Walking him through his own emotions was what they concluded would help him the best. The way Akaashi asks his questions feels almost chirurgical, but somehow, Osamu doesn’t care. He knows that Akaashi cares about the answer, even if they’re almost the same every time.

“And who are you angry at?”

They both know the answer by now, but verbalizing his thoughts is the first step towards realizing they aren’t rational, they aren’t _the truth_. They’re only here to hurt him. He inhales deeply once against, his nose buried in the scratchy cotton shirt of his boyfriend. The familiar scent of their detergent helping to ground him. It means _home_ to him, it creates pictures in his mind : Akaashi laying in freshly washed sheets, Akaashi standing in front of a laundry basket, giving him a judgemental look when he sees him standing in front of the door, not moving to come and help him fold the clothes. His mind is filled with small moments like that that makes his heart a bit lighter. 

“Myself,” he finally whispers and the grip around his shoulders tightens just a bit.

“And why are you angry at yourself?” Akaashi asks in one single breath, his mouth against his temple.

He slightly curls around him in a protective stance, as if he could shield him from his own thoughts with his body.

They both have the same kind of thoughts. They both know there is no use in getting angry at each other for having them. There’s no rationality in the way they hate themselves, no logic in the way they want to disappear for doing things no one cares about. 

“I abandoned him. I disappointed him. Again.”

 _Him_. Atsumu. 

It always comes down to this, to the buried guilt Osamu will always carry for 'abandoning' his twin brother.

“We lost, like at nationals, back then. And today- Maybe- Maybe if we- Maybe if I had been there, he would have won. If I hadn’t given up on volleyball.”

It’s a discussion they’ve had many times, thoughts that will probably haunt him until the day he dies, his biggest _what if._ Osamu knows he made the right choice. He knows it. He rationally knows it was right not to follow Atsumu.

But there’s nothing rational in feelings. 

Akaashi’s hand comes to touch his face, tender against his cold cheek , and he makes him raise his head, bringing him close to his own, so close their noses could touch if he were to just tilt his head a little. 

“And who is angry at you for doing this? For choosing the life you want to live?”

And as much as he wants to answer that _Atsumu does, he does, he hates me for this_ , he knows it’s a lie. He’s seen it in his brother’s eyes, when he eats his onigiris, when he comes to visit him in Tokyo, or even when they talk about it like the adults they now are.

“Who blames you for not following him?”

Blue eyes meet grey and Akaashi doesn’t flinch, he looks at him, stares like he can see into his soul (he probably can at this point).

“Myself,” he whispers. 

“'Samu, do you want me to leave you alone?” 

The question always comes up at some point, the opportunity to get some space. Akaashi usually needs it. It lasts for a few hours, before he can start accepting Osamu’s tender words again. 

“No,” he says, and it sounds loud in his own ears, “don't leave, please.”

“I’m not leaving unless you want me to, don’t worry.”

They’re sitting on the floor in a rather uncomfortable position, but none of them moves anyway. The only remaining light source now that the television is off is the thin moon crescent and Osamu can barely see Akaashi’s face when he whispers, close to his lips, his hands still very much grounding him down to earth, making his thoughts just a bit more lucid.

“He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t, I swear he doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t blame you for being happy,” Akaashi says and Osamu only wants to curl his body around himself and disappear, how could he even think about Atsumu hating him? Did he have so little faith in the man who’s always been there in his life? Is he that ungrateful? Should he apologize- “Don’t beat yourself up for this, 'Samu, you’re allowed to feel. You're allowed to be scared.”

He grits his teeth but Akaashi doesn’t stop. He never does until he’s really back on his feet. And how his boyfriend knows when he’s pretending to be okay and when he really is, is still a mystery to him.

“He loves you and so do I, just the way you are, with your questions and your fears. We love you no matter what.” 

Their faces are close, foreheads pressed against each other and Osamu suddenly groans. He sits up to stretch the muscles of his neck in an excuse to put some distance between them. He doesn’t need space, but tenderness in moments like these always makes him feel off-balance, like all the words that leave Akaashi’s mouth at lies that he only says to make him feel better, to make him go back to normal. 

He knows it’s not the truth.

But he thinks it anyway. 

It’s not unusual for him to flee comfort like that, so Akaashi only sighs and ignores the little crack in his heart at the sight of his boyfriend looking so desperately _lost._ He knows the feeling all too well, the helplessness against your own thoughts, the way your heart is breaking in a way you know you won’t be able to stop. 

Osamu stares at the black screen in front of him. His ass is sore against the hard floor and he doesn’t know how Akaashi can stand sitting there all the time instead of using their couch. His brain feels too big for his cranial cavity and everything looks blurry around him. He’s tired, so tired, of feeling, of doubting. He’s just so tired, and lost, and he doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

“We love you, Samu.”

“I know,” he breathes out. “I know.”

But does he believe it?

His eyes leave the black screen to meet Akaashi’s and if he wasn’t completely falling apart before, he is now. It doesn’t show, it never really does. But Keiji knows him well enough to see the signs anyway, to catch him when he runs back to him like a lost bird looking for its nest. He catches him in his arms when Osamu lets himself fall there, his face hidden in the crease of his neck and he shakes once, only once. 

“I promise he doesn’t blame you.” 

Akaashi pats his head gently, his other arms wrapping itself around his waist and he holds him close, so close, once again.

“You’re worth loving, Samu.”

He brushes the top of his head with his nose, kisses his forehead from the tip of his lips again. And again. And again.

“And I love you so much.”

Their noses brush against each other's and he smiles softly, of so softly, gentle and careful, and Osamu’s heart melts in the middle of his chest, breaks under the loving gaze of his boyfriend.

“Do you want me to show it to you?” 

It doesn’t always end up that way. Almost never when Akaashi is the one needing some sort of grounding and only sometimes when it’s Osamu’s turn to look for guidance. Sometimes they’ll just lay in bed for hours, holding each other through the storm crashing through their heads. They don’t need words to communicate, not all the time. Sometimes, having someone to cook for you, to make you get out of bed, to hold you when you break, is enough.

But today, today he feels so lost he knows he can’t even bear laying in silence in their bed, alone in with thoughts, his feelings slashing irreparable cuts in the flesh of his heart. 

“Yeah,” Osamu gives in, closing his eyes, because he just can’t endure the weight of the love in his eyes, “ _please_ show me.”

Akaashi’s lips are familiar against his, chapped but perfect, oh so perfect. Their first kiss of the day leaves his head slightly spinning, but clearer, like lighting striking the fields of his mind, illuminating everything around itself, each excruciating thought he ever had. It’s short, but sharp, powerful in the way that makes Osamu almost snap out of the whirlwind of his thoughts. 

And with this one kiss, this one lighting strike, it’s like his own world starts burning, and he opens his eyes, looking at Akaashi with now darkened irises. Somewhere out there, in the streets, a car honks and Osamu doesn’t even register it. In this instant, there are only two things in his mind, Akaashi, and him, their two bodies sitting close, and yet not close enough. 

“Fuck- Keiji, please,...” he moans against the other man’s mouth.

Akaashi doesn’t wait for another second, pressing their mouths together, drinking his boyfriend’s breath and the small sounds that escape the boundaries of his lips. His hand comes to sit on the side of his neck and he pulls him closer, lets his other arm drop to Osamu’s thigh. 

“Bedroom,” Akaashi whispers just loudly enough for him to register and he nods, standing up first. He offers him a hand with a smile and Keiji grabs it without hesitation. 

.

Osamu's back hits their bed and Akaashi doesn’t waste another moment before climbing on the mattress with him. Once he’s on his knees between his boyfriend’s spread legs, he stops for a minute and lets his gaze linger there, on the man laying in front of him, completely at his mercy, his eyes burning him down to his very core. He lets his fingers travel along his clothed thighs, before Osamu groans and sits up to meet him there, his own hands gripping his shirt to start taking it off. His cock begins to stir in his pants and _damn_ , he really doesn’t need a lot.

“Here, let me get rid of these,” Akaashi says while he starts unbuttoning Osamu’s own polo shirt before throwing it on the chair-for-dirty-clothes. “Let me see you.”

They slowly but surely throw their clothes on the floor, not without leaving love bites everywhere their mouths can possibly reach until their lips finally find each other again. It’s only when they’re completely naked that Akaashi pushes his lover against the mattress, his head falling on his pillow, and starts kissing him, tasting him from the tip of his tongue. He tastes his lips first, just before Osamu opens his mouth, letting him swallow his heavy breathing, his small groans. 

Akaashi’s hands are roaming over his body, with the tip of his fingertips, leaving shivers behind their path, until he starts scratching his chest with more vigor, leaving red marks on his milky skin. His back arches from the feeling of Akaashi’s teeth sinking in the flesh of his hip, his hard on definitely on display now, for the moonlight and all the gods to see.

And Akaashi stares, and stares, his eyes wandering over Osamu’s sculpted chest, the hairs under his armpit, those that lead to his now very hard cock.

“You’re so perfect, 'Samu, you have no idea,” the smaller man whispers when he lets himself fall back forward, his body covering Osamu’s. 

His fingertips linger over Osamu’s nose, his ribs, the thin skin of his wrist and this touch alone pulls out a moan from his throat. 

“How do you even do that?” he manages to say between two groans as Akaashi starts sliding against him, his own cock pressed against his in a blessed friction. 

“I often wonder the same thing, don’t worry _._ ”

They rock gently against each other and Osamu throws his head backwards after one particularly good thrust, the one that comes after pearls of precome have started appearing at the tip of their cocks, making the friction just a bit wetter, more comfortable. His own hands are now gripping Keiji’s waist in an attempt to control his movements, but there’s nothing that can control Akaashi once his mind is set up on something. 

“You are so beautiful,” he says blue eyes locked with grey ones, “you have no idea.” 

He reaches blindly towards the nightstand where he gets the bottle of lube they keep stored here and pours some on his hand before closing his fingers around Osamu’s throbbing member. And he can’t stop his hips from bucking up when Akaashi lets his other hand roam further behind, fingertips slightly touching his balls before pressing on his perineum, ripping a moan out from Osamu’s throat. 

“Can you help me, Samu?”

“Hmm,” Osamu mumbles something, his eyes now unfocused as he lets himself drown in the feeling of Keiji’s fingers between his legs.

“Touch yourself now, 'Samu, help me here.” 

He knows it’s some sort of mind manipulation that only Akaashi has mastered, but he doesn’t care, and he obeys, letting his boyfriend squeeze some lube on his fingers before he replaces Keiji’s hand around him. He can feel his lover's own hard on against his thigh when he moves and, _Gods,_ how can the mere feeling of his cock against his skin make his whole body feel like it's caught on fire? 

“You have no idea how good you look right now,” Akaashi continues, his breath warm against his hip where he starts biting the already abused fleshed again. He starts caressing the thin skin just behind his balls, hovering over his hole with his slicked fingers, never touching it. “You’re perfect.”

And Osamu could believe him, because he would believe absolutely anything that Akaashi would say at that point.

“ _Fuck,_ Keiji” he moans and he closes his fingers around the tip of his cock for a second, tightening the grip around his member, right there, and Akaashi’s eyes are burning holes in his skin from how hard he’s watching, “ _Please_ Keiji I need _you_.”

Fingers join his own on his cock at the same time as Akaashi’s mouth slowly drifts just a bit to the left, biting the tender part of his thigh and he moans, and moans, _Keiji, please_. 

“You look so good, Samu, so, so good for me, spread out like that, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” He bites the flesh of his other thigh and smiles when Osamu’s back arches up a bit further, their fingers linked and now immobile around his cock, “I will give you what you need later.” 

At that Osamu groans but doesn’t say anything, his hips bucking to get more friction from their fingers, from anything really, even Akaashi’s finger that’s still lingering between his legs could make him come with enough concentration.

“But for now, why don’t you show yourself some love, uh? Why don’t you touch yourself like you would touch me, show this body some love?”

“ _Keiji._ ”

He leaves Osamu’s fingers alone on his cock and in one swift moment sits up on his knees once again to look at his now dishevelled boyfriend.

“I will show you how much I love you, I promise, but you deserve to love yourself too, don’t you think? So show it to me, show me how you deserve to be loved.”

“ _Please_.”

“Samu, keep going just like before, can you do that for me?”

Osamu groans but resumes caressing himself slowly, before tightening his grip and starting going back and forth faster. Akaashi only carefully watches him, making sure it’s not too much, wary of any sign of distress.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“ _Keiji_ ,” his voice is a pitch higher when he moans now, almost desperate, and his eyes are closed, his back arched once again, very obviously chasing his own release. 

“Why don’t you show the rest of your body some love too, uh? Your chest, your legs,” and Osamu’s free hand automatically obeys, wandering on his abs, his nipples, before coming to gently touch his inner thighs, slowly drifting towards the junction between his legs, “You can go further if you want to, Osamu, don’t stop on my behalf.”

“ _I need- ugh- you- please, Keiji.”_

“You can last for a few more moments, love, I know you can.”

“Keiji-”

His hand is going faster and faster on his cock and Akaashi doesn’t miss the way his other hand is now rubbing against his hole. He takes the bottle he threw next to Osamu’s leg a few moments before and squeezes some lube over his boyfriend's fingers, _Go on, Osamu, I know you want to,_ the action says, and his lover understands wonderfully because the first finger almost immediately slips in.

“You’re so good for me Osamu, so, so good, you’re doing so well- I love you so much,” he says and he has to mentally restrain his own body from throwing itself at his lover.

Osamu wails in desperation, with his cock standing red and hard as steel between his long fingers and he arches upwards, not thinking clearly anymore.

“Breathe, love.” He whispers and he smoothly falls on Osamu’s side, his lips coming to kiss his offered throat, and he licks the tight line on his neck. “I’m proud of you.”

His hand finally flies between his legs to grab his own painfully hard member and he starts touching himself, his fingers tight against the hard flesh and he sighs in relief. 

“I’ll be there to catch you, I promise, I love you, you’re so good for me- _Fuck_ Samu. The things you do to me.”

“ _Keiji-_ ” his throat feels tight, so, so, so tight, like there’s a lump beside his Adam’s apple and his mind is clouded, overwhelmed by the waves of sensations that are coming from between his legs, by his ears in which Akaashi’s voice keeps ringing. His mind is clouded, lost between the words his lover is whispering and the deafening volume of his own self-loathing, the weight of his guilt.

“I’m here love, I’ll _always_ be here,” Akaashi continues, breathless and his own hips start to rock on their own accord. But this is about Osamu here, so he grounds himself and kisses the side of his forehead, in a useless attempt to chase Osamu's heavy unforgiving thoughts away.

“ _Keiji please- I-_ ” 

He adds a second finger, but they both know it’s not _enough_ yet. His body starts shaking nonetheless and a broken sob escapes his lips. At the sound of this, Akaashi’s hand gently comes to rest on the face of his lover, feeling the wetness of one single tear on his cheek. 

“Let go, Osamu, I know you want to, you deserve this, you deserve everything.”

“I don’t- _Keiji-_ I don’t deserv- _”_ and his voice breaks there, another sob wrecking him completely as new tears start rolling on his cheeks, his hand still desperately tight around himself. 

And it’s just so much, too much, the feeling of almost reaching ecstasy making him fly, and the guilt weighting him down. It’s too much and his brain is so confused, and he doesn’t know what to believe anymore, what to do.

“You do, I swear you do, love.”

Thank god for Akaashi’s voice, soothing in his ear, for his fingers that are now stroking his neck, the sensitive skin of his shoulders. It’s grounding, and if he feels completely lost in the middle of the storm created by his own thoughts, he can still see Akaashi’s light guiding him.

“I can’t- I-”

In the end, his mind is still more powerful than gentle touches, trained by ten years of culpability he’s inflected on himself. _Letting go_ is just something he rarely does.

“You’re enough, Osamu, believe me, you are, you’re enough, and so much more.”

“ _Please, please, please-_ ” 

He’s so disoriented, looking for an answer, or anything, that will lift the weight on his shoulders, anything to catch him as he breaks under the overwhelming feelings that are assaulting his mind.

The first time Akaashi pushed Osamu to his limits like that, taking him apart piece by piece, they had both been too scared to go through until the end. But with time and years of experience, boundaries got clearer for the both of them and he doesn’t worry as much as he used to anymore when he sees his lover’s body trembling from the force of a choked sob. 

“What do you want, love?” he asks a few moments later, when Osamu’s body is still beautifully arched, but also more still, less shaky. They have discussed these activities times and times again, but boundaries are not set in stone, just as tectonic plates might shift eventually.

“You- Fuck I need _you-_ I can’t do this myself, it’s too- I can’t.” His whole body is rigid under his own fingers, hot and wet from sweat and tears, and Akaashi gently puts his lips on his shoulders, kisses the skin on his ribs and finally, he positions himself between his legs. 

“Oh _thank gods.”_ Osamu whispers but it ends up sounding more like a weak whimper. 

“Keep touching yourself,” Akaashi orders gently, replacing Osamu’s fingers inside of him, pushing his lubed index in the tight heat, resulting in another long groan from his lover. 

“I need you- I need you so _bad_ fuck- Keiji- I can’t do this without-”

“You're _everything_ , love,” he says, “I know it’s hard to believe, with all that anger in your mind,” he continues.

He adds another finger that slides in, in one go, Osamu’s entrance already loosen up by his own ministrations. 

“I can’t-” Osamu whines, between two sobs that shake his entire core, “I can’t- I don’t have the strength- I’m so- So tired, Keiji,” he whispers as he keeps fucking himself on his fingers, his hand still fisting his cock although it’s not really moving anymore.

“I know, love, it happens to the best of us.” He kisses his balls and gently licks the junction between his thighs, “you find yourself in the middle of a war,” he kisses his hip, marks his thighs, again, and again, “but it’s a war against you, against you and you-” he kisses the hand that holds Osamu’s cock and licks the tip of the throbbing member when his lover lets go of it. 

“But you know what?” he adds one last finger and Osamu moans loudly at the intrusion. There’s no sobs anymore, only small whimpers when he pushes in before withdrawing and going back in. “You need to learn how to love your enemies too.”

“ _Fuck_.”

He finally withdraws his fingers completely and slides towards Osamu’s face. His clean hand comes to caress his cheek before he starts kissing him, hard and wet, tasting him with his tongue. 

“I love you so much Keiji,” Osamu whispers in one last moment of almost clarity.

“I love you too.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone else- anyone else like I want you.” 

He’s babbling now, not thinking clearly, but that’s alright, because Akaashi’s here to catch him if he falls. 

“I need to feel you, Keiji, please.”

And despite all his self hatred that’s usually hidden behind layers and layers of cockiness, Osamu still knows what will be good for him, what is going to save him when everything else fails: Akaashi. 

“ _God Samu._ ”

Akaashi wraps his arms around Osamu’s waist and his fingers lingers over his ribs for a second before he finally, finally grabs his own length to position himself between his lover’s legs. They rock against each other for a few moments, savouring the simple feeling of being so close to each other. And Osamu’s never felt as bare as he does when he’s laying under Akaashi’s stare, wearing his heart on his sleeve. 

“Don’t hold back, _please,_ ” Osamu moans and Akaashi slowly enters him, his breath catching in his throat as he slides in the tight heat of his lover. “I want to feel you.”

And Akaashi has a very hard time not listening to Osamu’s pleas, but he’s not here to lead them to completion. Not that fast at least. So he slides in, slowly, gently, and when he’s seated in, and their eyes meet, he smiles softly. 

His hand comes to cup Osamu’s face, still wet from previously shed tears, and his eyes are still shining, desperate for something, anything.

“I need to _feel_ , please, anything,” anything but _this_ , this self loathing, this guilt, this hate and this anger, _make me feel good._

But Akaashi only smiles, kinder and kinder. He pulls out gently before slamming back in and Osamu wails at the sensation, lifting his hips slightly, in search of _that spot._ But they’ve been together for more than two decades, and this comes with many advantages like knowing your partner’s body perfectly.

“You can’t expect to be perfect, Samu,” Akaashi says, holding back his own moans. “This is a fight you have to forfeit.” He breathes against his throat. He can feel Osamu shake under him, burying his own face in his shoulder and he starts sobbing again, his arms wrapped around his waist to pull him closer but also to just _feel_ him against his skin, to ground him in reality. 

So Akaashi does his best to not slam on his prostate, ignoring Osamu’s quiet moans, and he keeps moving slowly, slowly. 

“Can you do something for me Samu?”

“ _Anything,_ ” comes the immediate response, and Akaashi chuckles involuntarily. He doesn’t know if it’s a silent _please_ or a true promise, but he’ll take either one. 

“Forgive yourself,” his hips snap hard between Osamu’s legs and they both moan when Akaashi’s dick reaches _that spot_ he’s been trying to avoid all night. “You’re so gentle with everyone, so considerate.” 

He rams into him hard, and Osamu feels like he might start coming from the mere shock of it. He grips his shoulders and pulls him close, close, close, his knuckles white as his nails start breaking the milky skin of his lover. Akaashi drives forward, _hard_ and he hits _that spot_ again, and Osamu moans, loud and unapologetic, and his body is trembling under him.

“But you deserve kindness too, my love.”

“ _Keiji_ \- Fuck.”

It’s just so much, so much, to feel this, the steady feeling of Akaashi’s cock entering him, his fingers digging into his hips, the sweet words he whispers right in his ears before he starts biting the skin of his throat gently.

“Let go, Osamu, I’m right here.”

“ _Keiji- fuck- fuck, ah!”_

He’s desperate, body arching to chase after Akaashi’s cock. And the smaller man gives him just _exactly_ what he needs, pulling him apart like he promised, breaking his heart to let all the guilt escape from the cage he built around it, that ended up protecting the heavy feeling of dread more than putting it away. The walls start crumbling as Akaashi kisses his forehead, replacing all the hatred he ever felt towards himself with his gentle touches, his soft words.

“I can’t- I need-”

Akaashi’s hips keep rolling against his thighs, merciless. 

“Look at me, love.”

Greys meet blues, and when Akaashi whispers the softest _I love you_ he’s ever heard, Osamu falls apart. 

“Keij- Ah.” But he can’t breathe anymore, choked by the pressure of his own orgasm as he starts shaking uncontrollably. 

Osamu is a mess, a complete utter mess, and he doesn’t even know if he’s crying or still coming, or both at the same time, but tears are still falling on his cheeks. His vision blurs out and he sees white, and blue, and yellow. His entire body tenses and he spills over himself. His back falls back on the mattress and everything goes black. 

“Fuck- _fuck- Samu I’m going to-_ ” and the rest of his sentence is lost in a long moan that sounds like it’s been ripped out of him, painful and exhausting. His entire body shakes violently as Osamu’s nails scratch his back, still riding the wave of pleasure that’s crashing over him.

.

When Osamu comes back to himself, Akaashi is gently kissing every millimeter of his exposed skin. His throat is covered in red marks that Osamu doesn’t even remember leaving there. 

“Hey,” Akaashi whispers softly, as if they weren’t screaming out of their lungs a few minutes before.

“ _Mmmh_.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m a wreck- I’m- You. Fuck.”

Akaashi chuckles and kisses the top of his head. Osamu blinks slowly, feeling sleep calling him. He feels so much _peace,_ he‘s having a hard time believing he can enjoy laying here, in silence, without breaking apart under the weight of his own thoughts.

“Was it too much?” His lover’s eyebrows are furrowed, still looking at him with unconcealed adoration.

“Nah, ‘t was good. _Yer_ good,” he mumbles, his accent coming back as he turns on his side to cuddle against Akaashi, obviously not caring about the cum covering his skin. They’ll deal about that later.

“I’m glad.”

Akaashi wraps one arm around his naked waist and hums, closing his eyes too, but as he drifts asleep, Osamu’s voice breaks the peaceful silence of their bedroom in a whisper.

“‘T was really good.”

Akaashi opens his eyes slowly and they meet Osamu’s own. They slide over the silhouette of his lover with all the tenderness he’s capable of gathering after _this_ and he smiles tiredly. 

Osamu silently takes in the sight of his boyfriend’s pale shoulders, his thin waist illuminated by the almost non existent light coming from the window.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Osamu whispers.

“Me neither.”

Osamu smiles and kisses him quickly on the lips, a chaste kiss, the one you give your husband before going to bed, that screams _domesticity, familiarity, trust._ He finally lets his head fall on the pillow, nuzzling his nose against Akaashi’s own rounder one.

“Ya deserve kindness too Keiji, ya know that, right?”

“Mmmmh.” Akaashi hums. “Yeah, I’m slowly getting there.”

“Me too.” 

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Akaashi settles his face against the back of Osamu’s neck and lets himself drift to sleep, his right arm thrown around the waist of his lover, their fingers intertwined on the softness of his belly. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS VERY SELF INDULGENT THING  
> notes,, i really liked writing them in their forties, i know it's not obvious, but you know, i think older osaaka who have spent 2 decades loving each other is HAWT.  
> i dont have many things to say since this is mostly canon-compliant so there's no additional notes to add.


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